


Xmas Ghosts

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-12
Updated: 2003-10-12
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A Christmas visit after the night Scully and Mulder spent in the mansion.





	Xmas Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Xmas Ghosts

### Xmas Ghosts

#### by Frankie

  

    
    
         Xmas Ghosts
         by Frankie
         
         Subject: Xmas Ghosts M/K NC-17
         Date: Monday, June 02, 2003 12:58 AM
         May 2003
         Disclaimers:  Property of the suits.   You know who they
         are.  Don't make me say it.
         Rating/Pairing:  NC-17 for m/m, language, violence; M/K
         Spoilers:  How the Ghosts Stole Christmas
         Summary:  A Christmas visit after the night Scully and
         Mulder spent in the mansion.
    

Notes: I despise warnings with a fiery passion. but I despise the whining even more. So, for those of you who need one, this story might offend your delicate sensibilities. Thanks to Sue for reading this for me and liking it. Feedback: It's only a wee snippet, but if you have anything to say, be it good or bad, please send it privately. Onlist feedback is such an eyesore. Thanks. . 

* * *

Xmas Ghosts  
by Frankie 

It was early Christmas morning. The lone figure shivered in the cold, but was grateful that at least the snow was beginning to let up. What had fallen already had left the deserted streets covered with a blanket so perfect, it felt like being stuck in a Christmas card. 

He pulled his jacket tighter around him, watching the front door to the apartment building with tired, wary eyes. The surprise at seeing the redhead had long since worn off, and now he passed the time waiting for her to leave between watching the door and the living room window. He knew that as long as the light stayed on everything was okay. 

She had finally left as dawn was breaking. He would have missed her if not for the familiar creak of the front door as it closed. Chastising himself for letting his surveillance slip, he watched her, eyes never wavering as they tracked her every step until she was in her car. Only when she drove away did he look up at the window. The light was still on. 

Boots crunching in the snow, the slow, steady rhythm of his steps in time with the beat of his heart, he made his way across the street to the apartment building. Once inside, it was no time at all until he found himself outside of Mulder's door. The dimly lit hallway looked the same as it ever did, and he wondered if there was some kind of time warp in which this place existed. Every time he'd been there, it had looked and smelled and felt the same. If he was the kind to try and fool himself, he could have pretended that it was still the first time he'd ever been; the first time when he'd thought that just maybe he wasn't trapped. 

His fingers traced the four and the two on the door, and he wondered if he shouldn't just go back to the elevator and forget he'd ever been there. Before he could change his mind, the door opened. 

"Alex." It was whispered but urgent. "I didn't think you were going to come." 

"You weren't really expecting me, were you?" 

"I...I was hoping to thank you for the jacket." Mulder stepped back, indicating the black leather he was still wearing. "I saw the shadows under the door," he explained. "At first I thought Scully had come back for something, but..." He gave him a tired smile. "It wasn't her." 

"Why do you still have the jacket on? I would have thought you'd take it off when your company arrived." There was a hint of hostility in the words. 

"You saw her?" 

Krycek nodded, walking into the apartment, whistling when he saw the new decor. "What made you decide to redecorate? I never had you figured for that type." 

Mulder's laugh was soft, almost embarrassed. "You should have seen it before I removed most of it. I never did find out what happened, but it was like someone broke in and changed everything." 

"Like a renegade interior designing fairy?" 

"More like a renegade swinging bachelor fairy," Mulder smirked at the look on his face and closed the door. "Maybe I should rephrase that before you say--" 

"Like you?" Krycek shook his head. "Nah, I don't think you're a swinging bachelor fairy, Mulder." 

"Just a queer, then?" 

"Nope, just a guy who seeks comfort where he can." Krycek took a seat on the couch, his hand carressing the soft leather, a fond look on his face. 

"You'd better share that thought." 

"Just remembering the last time I was here. You were so...grateful." 

Mulder bristled a little and sat down next to him. "Do you think I'm self-absorbed and singleminded? Do you think I'm afraid of being alone?" 

"I think you're focused on your goals," Krycek said after some thought, "but that's not a bad thing. As for being alone, you never seemed to care about it before, but..." 

"What?" Mulder prodded. "Go on." 

"You're changing. You're still selfish but you're also grasping at someone to share your goals." Krycek shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Why do you ask?" 

"I had a strange experience, last night. Scully and I went to this haunted house and met the occupants." 

"Yeah? Did they show you your Christmases past, present and future?" Krycek snickered. 

"You wouldn't have been laughing if you'd been there. It was probably one of the more frightening things I've ever been through, and it's made me question a lot of things about myself." 

"Ah, so your supernatural encounter has given you the gift of self-reflection wrapped up in a nice epiphanic package." Krycek sighed and sat back, his right arm behind his head, eyes focused on Mulder. "How lucky for you." 

Mulder just looked at him, and Krycek knew that he was thinking of something cutting to say but appeared to not have the strength to do it. 

"What did Scully think? About your sudden self doubt?" 

"She didn't... I didn't discuss it with her." 

There was silence between the two men, each wishing he could read the other's mind. As it stretched from seconds to minutes, neither noticed that they weren't particularly uncomfortable with the lack of words. It was the build up of tension that was starting to get to them. The same tension that seemed to surround the two men whenever they had an encounter was in full force, until Mulder had to do something about it. Before, it had been punches and bitter words, but ever since their last meeting, it needed to be something more. 

He moved his hand to rest it on Krycek's knee. "I've got a bed now," he murmured, licking his lips in anticipation when Krycek leaned toward him. 

"No more small talk about your idiosyncrasies?" 

"Why should I bore you with that when we both know that's not what we want?" 

Krycek shrugged and got to his feet. "Tell me again why you didn't shoot me the last time you saw me." 

"Why?" Mulder was standing behind Krycek, his hands on the strong shoulders, pushing him towards the bedroom. 

"Just pretend it turns me on." 

"Okay. You were right about the planned invasion. You knew all about what was going to happen and you believed I could do something about it." 

"And?" 

Mulder paused outside the bedroom. "And you gave me back my belief in my quest." 

"Scully's never done that, has she? If she had, you would have fucked _her_ , right?" 

"What?" Mulder drew back as if he'd been struck. "Where are you going with this?" 

"You love her." 

"Of course I love her. We've been through a lot together. I'll always love her." 

"You want to be with her." 

"She'd never have me." 

"But if she would?" 

Mulder turned around with a frustrated groan. "Did you come here to quiz me about my feelings for Scully or to get laid?" 

"Why can't it be both?" 

"Scully isn't your concern. What she and I have will never be your problem, Krycek." 

"Yeah, okay." Krycek opened the door to the bedroom, already starting to shrug out of his jacket. "Let's get to it, then." 

"Don't sound so enthused," Mulder chuckled, stepping behind Krycek and carefully pulling off his T-shirt. "How come I never noticed before how good you smell?" he asked, putting the shirt to his nose and inhaling deeply. 

"Different cologne from when we were partners," Krycek said, matter of factly. "No big mystery." 

"No, it's you." Mulder's voice was hoarse as he started to unfasten Krycek's prosthesis. "I think I was so blinded by my anger at being partnered with someone else, never mind the usual current of paranoia that--." 

"And that made you lose your sense of smell?" 

Mulder laughed and turned Krycek to face him. "You don't make it easy to be romantic." 

The snort that accompanied the raised eyebrow was comical. "When's the last time you slept?" 

"Why?" 

"You're getting punchy. The last thing you care about is romancing me. I know I'm pretty much the only one who's been fucking you, but it doesn't mean you have to give a damn." 

Mulder's eyes widened, and, for a moment, it appeared he hadn't heard a word Krycek had said. "Oh, man, I almost forgot." He disappeared into the living room and soon returned with a clumsily wrapped package. "Here. Merry Christmas." 

"You don't celebrate Christmas," Krycek said, as if he were addressing a small child. 

"I know, but you do. Besides, you gave me that jacket The whole spirit of the season is giving, right?" 

"I lifted that jacket off a truck, Mulder. It didn't fit me, so I left it for you. No big deal." 

"But you didn't have to," Mulder grinned. "Come on." 

Biting back his smile, Krycek took the package and shook it. "Open it for me," he said, handing it back to Mulder, finally revealing his smile. 

Mulder tore open the paper to reveal a slim, white box. "I figure you might have one, but maybe you can't have too many." He lifted the lid and presented Krycek with a pocket knife. 

"Wow, that's nice," Krycek said, choking a little at the gesture. "I'm impressed you'd actually want to give me more weapons." 

Mulder's face fell, the reaction obviously not the one he wanted. "Just say you hate it and be done with it, Krycek." 

"Did I say I hated it?" 

"No, but--" 

"Just give me the fucking knife," Krycek growled, grabbing it from the box and looking at it. "This is actually really nice." He smiled and looked at Mulder, eyes uncertain but hopeful. "Thanks, Mulder." 

Mulder's demeanor immediately changed once it was clear his gift had been properly received. "You're very welcome. I knew you'd like it." 

"Sure you did, Mulder," Krycek said, the words husky and full of a contempt he didn't really feel. By now it had become second nature to use that tone whenever he was with his former partner, but the turn their relationship had taken was making it more difficult for him to take any of that seriously. 

"What now?" 

"Huh?" 

"As hard as it might be for you to believe, I do remember what it was like to be your partner, Alex. That look you just had on your face is the one you used to get when you wanted to strangle whoever you were interviewing." 

Krycek smiled and dropped his head. "Don't worry, I don't want to strangle you." 

"What is it, then?" 

"I don't understand any of this, Mulder. Yeah, I want to get laid, but... What the hell are you doing? Why are you doing this with me? You can't stand me. Why are you giving me presents and acting like you care if I'm here?" 

Mulder pursed his lips, looking thoughtful as he waited to see if Krycek had finished asking his questions. "May I speak?" At Krycek's nod, Mulder took a deep breath and folded his arms in front of his chest. "There are a lot of things I haven't forgotten, Alex," he began, voice just above a whisper. "Bringing you back here after you shot Cole, staying up with you while you tried to sort it all out, and ending up...making love with you on that very same couch you were just getting misty-eyed over." 

"Just make your point," Krycek said, choking on the words. 

"My point is that maybe I was just waiting for the chance to see if I'd ever be able to feel for you what I did that night. When you came to tell me about the fight we had on our hands, I started to feel it. When you gave me that...that _taunting_ kiss, I felt it even more. For the life of me, I couldn't understand how I could still feel that way for a murderous son of a bitch." 

Krycek's eyes flashed at Mulder's words. "I really hope you're going somewhere with this." 

Mulder put a hand on Krycek's shoulder, looking into his eyes with an urgency he couldn't find the words to express. "For the first time since you'd left me after Scully's abduction, I wanted you back, Alex. I wanted you to be the kid I was partnered with. Before I found out who you were, before all the bullshit that's gone down since then. The night you told me about the fight was the start, and the night you came here after Scully and I got back from the Antarctic made me see how much I--" 

The phone rang, making Krycek flinch and step away from Mulder. "You'd better get that." 

Cursing, Mulder picked up the phone, muttering about who the hell would be calling him that early on Christmas morning. Krycek watched Mulder briefly speaking to whoever it was and then placing the handset back on the cradle. 

"Who was it?" 

"Would you believe a wrong number?" Mulder grinned sheepishly and walked back over to where Krycek was still standing. "Okay, where were we?" 

"I...I don't remember." Krycek's smile was stiff, forced. "Why don't we just get back to what we were doing." 

"You must think I have the memory of a goldfish, my man," Mulder smirked. 

"Or maybe I just don't want to hear whatever you were going to say." 

Mulder was stunned, his face betraying his shock and hurt. "You... Okay, you just came here for..." 

"The sex," Krycek finished, turning his face away. "You still up for it?" 

Jaw clenched, Mulder nodded. Without warning, he shoved Krycek onto the bed and began viciously yanking down the worn jeans. 

"Hey!" Krycek protested. "What the fuck--" 

"That's it exactly," Mulder growled, pinning Krycek facedown before the other man could get off the bed. The undulating motion of the waterbed made it all but impossible for Krycek to fight him off, and having the use of only one arm made it even worse. "This is what you came here for," he muttered, unzipping his fly then spreading the cheeks of Krycek's ass. 

"What are you doing, Mulder?" The panic in Krycek's voice was unmistakable. 

"What does it feel like, Alex? Just giving you what you came here for." 

"But not like this." His voice was high-pitched, on the verge of a shriek, but he knew it wouldn't make any difference now. 

The more he fought, the harder Mulder pushed him down, until the other man's arm was digging into the back of his neck, forcing his face into the yielding mass of the waterbed. He could hear the sloshing of water, could feel the cool surface beneath the sheets as his cheek was pressed harder to it. Then all he could feel was the searing pain as Mulder forced his cock inside him. 

When the act was over, Mulder began to shake, his dick still buried inside of Krycek's body. He could feel the bile beginning to rise in his throat at what he'd done. 

"Oh god," he groaned, tearing off to the bathroom to empty his guts. 

He walked back out, wiping his mouth. Krycek hadn't moved, and, for a moment, Mulder wondered if he'd smothered him. 

"Feel better now?" 

Mulder cringed at the broken sound of the question coming from the unmoving heap on the bed. 

"Alex, I--" 

"Don't say a word to me, Mulder." Krycek moved carefully as he tried to sit up, and Mulder saw him wince when he turned around. "You showed me a lesson, didn't you? So now you don't get to say anything else to me." 

"Please, Alex--" 

"I thought that maybe I'd been given a second chance," Krycek continued, managing after some effort to get to his feet. "I was so grateful - more grateful than you'd know - that you'd want me again." 

"I _do_ want you, Alex," Mulder choked, rushing to help Krycek with his clothes, but stopping dead in his tracks at the look in the green eyes that were staring him down. "I'm so sorry. I...I don't know why I did that..." 

"I know why you did it," Krycek said, breath hitching as he slowly pulled his jeans back up. "You're a fucking psycho. You can call me any name in the book, but I'll never be as bad as you." 

"Alex, it was a mistake," Mulder pleaded. "I'm...I haven't slept. I had a really tough night. You've got to give me a break." 

There were no words Krycek could think of to express his disbelief at what had just been said to him. All that was left for him to do was look at Mulder as if he'd lost his mind. For all he knew, that's exactly what had happened. 

Shaking his head, Krycek fought to keep his fingers from trembling as he gathered his clothes and the useless plastic limb whose mere existence would be a reminder of why he'd been put at such a disadvantage. 

Krycek's voice was dull when he spoke again. "I could have killed you. If I had both my arms, I would have killed you." His movements were robotic as he reattached the arm then began awkwardly dressing. "I should kill you now, but I won't." He turned dark eyes to the man who could have meant so much to him. "There are too many things planned for you." 

"What? What do you mean?" Mulder stepped toward him again, but this time a gun stopped him in his tracks. 

"Go make nice with your little partner, Fox," Krycek smirked. "Just remember that you're never going to be free of us." 

Mulder watched helplessly as Krycek walked towards the front door and out of his apartment without a second glance. Lowering himself to sit on the floor, he stared at the closed door and knew that he would never get another chance. 

**END**

* * *

Frankie 

"I can't take his money. I can't print my own money. I have to work for money. Why don't I just lie down and die?" -- Homer Simpson   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Frankie


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